The Truth About Flowers
by Cassadee Willows
Summary: When Reid forges an unusual relationship, only to find it falling apart around him, he remembers why he never puts his faith in anyone but himself. Armed with his social shortcomings and a bouquet of flowers, he sets out to find the truth behind the lies.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, all! Happy Valentine's Day! For those of you saying, "I don't have a boyfriend! Darn you Valentine's Day!" I am right there with you. I don't have a boyfriend, either, but I still pretend like the day is cuter an less mushy than it actually is. Therefore, I decided to try to make Valentine's Day happy for everyone and write a cute little Reid fan-fiction to honor the cuteness of love, and things like it. It was supposed to be a one shot, but twenty pages later it turned into a two-shot, or a double dose, whatever you would like to call it. I will post the rest tomorrow. Although I've continued all my other short stories, I am honestly in over my head with doing so, and I won't be continuing this one past these two chapters. Thank you for reading and you all own my heart._

_This story takes place about a year or so in the future. We're going to just go ahead and pretend like Emily never left and all is well and dandy. Who doesn't love Emily? _

**Chapter 1**

**A Classic Line**

There were a lot of things that Spencer Reid knew about life, but social graces were not one of them. Facts made him confident. Small talk over a glass of wine did not. In fact, he never felt less confident than he did when he was sitting in front of someone he barely knew, searching for words to interest and intrigue them, instead of bore them into an epic snoozefest. He had the latter down pat. That was the problem.

When he found friends, he kept them close, but didn't dote over them if he could help it. It was when you put effort into showing how you felt, instead of naturally letting it flow, that you found yourself getting hurt, or you lost that person. At least that had been his experience and he knew no better. Regardless, he couldn't be anyone but himself, and that was more than enough. His heart was on his sleeve, whether he wanted it to be or not. Hint: he didn't. Even still, as a rule, he didn't bond with people and they didn't get him.

Recently, Reid had life, love and relationships thrown back in his face in the form of demons that had spent the duration of his employment with the BAU haunting him, only he hadn't known it. They decided to present themselves in the form of headaches, ones the doctors insisted were nothing but mental. He skipped through four different doctors, all with the same results, to absolutely no avail whatsoever. Having no other choices left except possibly another stint on Dilaudid, one he wasn't willing to reacquaint with, he decided to suck it up and go and talk to someone.

He had done some tough things in his life, living in a realm of sadness and loneliness that only a handful of people would ever experience. It took him three months to find someone he thought he could talk to, someone who came highly recommended through each of the four doctors he had seen, and someone who he researched over and over again. To be sure he could trust this person, he even made three appointments, all of which he went to and spent the entire time asking the therapist questions, instead of visa versa. He realized he trusted this person in around the time when they told him they weren't going to bother to charge him for those sessions because it was the best therapy session they themselves had. At last, he had found a trustworthy, formidable opponent to confess his feelings to.

It wasn't until he started pouring his heart out on the fainting couch that he realized he had problems, and a lot of them. He knew his life was abnormal, but it was his life. He had been scarred, but learned only to keep it all inside and either hide it, or deal with it in the best way he knew possible and move on. He never actually placed one of his problems in front of himself and analyzed it like he would analyze anyone else's problems. He never stopped swallowing the pain long enough to find that it was a very real feeling, that it was there like an old friend, and it enveloped him, refusing to let him go. His headaches went away with the more pain he talked through, but a lot of fears and more doubts about himself crept into his mind. He spent a lot of time on that fainting couch, but that was just between himself and the therapist. The team never needed to know.

His biggest problem, however, may not have even been the problems he refused to admit. It may have been that somehow, in a turn of events beyond his comprehension, a line had been crossed between himself and his therapist. He knew the boundaries that they were both expected to uphold, he as a patient, and her as a therapist. Yes, her. The line was never sexual. In fact, it wasn't romantic at all. Worst of all, it was all Reid's fault and he knew it.

Reid's only way to calm himself upon inching up on life events that would require him to dust off the not always so metaphorical skeletons in his closet of his mind, was to ask her questions, too. This went past the first three sessions, and she quickly picked up on what he was doing. Although she tried time and time again to get him to stop doing it and focus on himself, she finally came to the conclusion that this was who he was. Knowing that he, too, had studied psychology, she saw no harm in giving him a little bit of comfort and being honest with him. The more honest she was with him, the more honest he was with her, and, as a result, himself, which is what helped him heal, but caused lines to blur.

He knew their professional relationship was over when, one evening after his session, as he was gathering himself together and taking a few moments with a tissue to pull himself together on that fainting couch, he temporarily stopped thinking about her as someone he paid to talk to him. He may have had a chance of keeping things professional, only, when he got up to leave, walking out of the room where she had given him time alone post each session to gather his thoughts, he found her shutting down the office for the evening. Small talk ensued and they both admitted hunger. Somehow, by his own suggestion that he hadn't realized he made until just after doing it, they ended up at a casual little restaurant across the street, talking and laughing for nearly three hours. Neither talked about their problems, but she knew all of his, and he knew some of hers, and it was comfortable. Nothing was comfortable for Reid.

Reid, without realizing it, and probably never knowing it, was a gentleman. It was clear to him that she had been hurt in the past. Well adjusted people rarely become therapists. It takes some event, some way of knowing others' pain, to cause someone to want to help others. Reid knew that first hand. She had dealt with her problems, though, in a healthy way, but still seemed to find no company in men. She had admitted to Reid she knew a few guys, but he had really become the only one who she felt had no agenda. He opened doors for her and paid for dinner, and she didn't get any of that, but she liked having a platonic friend, as far as he knew.

He finally had someone to bide his time with; his Saturday nights and his days off. He didn't feel like the odd man out when he went into work and everyone spoke about their weekend, then, as a courtesy, asked him about his. He always shrugged, admitting he had no plans. He never realized it bothered him until he had her, until he had Abby. Everyone would just pat him on the back and assume what they would assume. He never corrected them, not because he wanted to be having those kinds of relations with her, but because he didn't mind people not looking at him like the sweet, adorable kid of a coworker that deserved a nice girl, but couldn't get one. In therapy, he realized he really hated when they did that.

All was well and blissful in friendship land. He even found himself opening up, knowing there was no pressure for anything more, and appreciating that more than he thought he would. Eventually, things progressed to the point where, during their movie nights when the cold weather moved in, the two would curl up against each other underneath a blanket. Sometimes Abby fell asleep that way, and when that happened he would gently wake her with his snoring, and allow her to take his bed, while he stayed on the couch. He never felt weird about it, he never wondered what his body was doing to him, or questioned his feelings. From his end, everything was perfect.

That was until the day Abby stopped picking up when he called, or texting him back right away when she couldn't talk, after taking all that time just to teach him to text. At first she would apologize when she did finally get back to him days later, claiming she was busy. Then, she began to decline his invitations for dinner or movie nights. Soon enough, she ignored his calls all together, but would apologize through only a single text and leave it at that. Reid couldn't profile that to save his life, and when brought up to his colleagues, they told him anything from, "I'm sorry, Kid, but it sounds like she's just not interested anymore," to "give her a few weeks, and if things still are the way they are, keep calling her until you get her. Ask her to talk. You don't have to be harsh, but you deserve answers." Obviously, they didn't know how to profile her, either.

Reid tried out both ends of the spectrum. First, he let her be. But it ate at him until he eventually flowed into the second option. He did a horribly naughty thing, at least by his standards, and called Abby at her office, right when he knew she'd be taking her lunch break. She used a landline with no caller ID, so he knew she'd pick up, although he felt like he was railroading her. He didn't know what else to do, because it suddenly seemed like all of his therapy was erased. Until he knew what he had done wrong to chase her away, he wasn't sure he could feel whole again, but when she picked up the phone, he felt guilty for blindsiding her.

"Hello, Abigail Autumn's office." Reid smiled to himself, imagining her with a mouthful of salad, while she tried to make herself sound like her mouth wasn't full. She did it to him all the time.

"Hello, Abby. I just wanted to call and see if you wanted to have dinner with me this evening. I'm sorry I haven't stopped in to see you, but we've been on a case for the last couple of weeks." Although Reid had rehearsed these lines over and over again, having to sit down and think them out first, he still stumbled all over his words and screwed it all up. All he wanted was to sound casual, like he had been the one who was busy and neglecting her, and not visa versa.

"Oh, shoot, Spencer, I can't. I'm really sorry. I...I'm just...I'm really busy...right now." She, too, stumbled all over her words, stopping several times, like she had to regain what she was trying to say, instead of speaking freely with him like she usually had.

"That's okay. How about the day after tomorrow? I'm off all day, you know, unless I get called in." He tried again, knowing the answer was going to be much of the same. That's what hurt the worst, though, and the part he couldn't figure out. Although she didn't seem as though she wanted to talk to him, she said nothing that would back that up. Even in her texts she was sweet, cordial, and if he really needed her, she was there to talk to and she made that known. He was confused and hurt all the same.

"I'd love to, but I can't then, either." It was apparent now that something was wrong, and even she couldn't deny that, so she decided to stop trying. "I know I've been a bad friend to you, Spencer. I haven't meant to be. You have to believe that. I just...I need a couple of weeks to myself."

"Is something going on? Did I do something to you? I just feel like you don't want to be around me anymore." Abby didn't answer him right away, instead taking deep breaths. She was trying to steady her voice, but he didn't know that. In his sensitive state, he took it to mean what he wanted it to mean. "I just don't understand what I did wrong."

"Oh, Spencer, it's not you. Trust me, it's not. It's me. I just...I have some things going on in my life that I have to deal with right now, and I can't do that unless I'm alone. I know you probably don't understand that, but I just ask you to respect that." She knew he wouldn't take that as an answer, that he wouldn't believe her and keep pressing. He was becoming defensive and it was her job to diffuse him, or at least she felt it was, considering she started out at his therapist, but she just couldn't bring herself to handle this properly.

"I don't know what to say to that. You just gave me the 'it's not you, it's me,' speech. I may be dense, but I know that's usually not good. Just come and have dinner with me. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on. If it's something really bad, I'm FBI, I can help you. I just don't like this right now, and I don't think this is really about anything like that. If I did something..." Abby butted in curtly, her voice wavering, and even now Reid, too, caught on that she was crying.

"Spencer, I have to go. I...you didn't." The phone went dead just that fast. He hit the redial button right away, but, as he expected, she didn't pick up. He tried her cell, and he even texted her. It only took a few minutes for his phone to vibrate in his pocket unexpectedly, but she had answered him back.

_ Spencer, I promise that this isn't about you or anything you've done. You've been nothing but good to me. I enjoy our friendship, but I need time away from it right now. I know that you can't understand this, and I can't talk about it, because this is a me thing. I promise I will call you when I figure some things out, but please give me some time._

It took her a grand total of three texts to get it all sent, and as Reid read each one, he felt more confused than finite. He almost thought he'd feel better had she been mean to him, or told him straight out to get lost. Nothing about what she said profiled that she wanted him gone, only what she did. She was too kind to him, almost as though she was desperate not to lose him, yet all of her actions showed she was desperate to be anywhere but near him. He no longer knew if he was going left or right with her, but he suddenly remembered why he had never kept anyone too close. It hurt when, not if, there was a fallout.

He didn't answer the texts, instead respecting her wishes and letting them linger in his phone aimlessly. He was hoping they would fall into the back of his mind, but they never did. In fact, they tortured him so heavily throughout that day and the next that his colleagues were starting to question him. Normally he lied, badly, but he did it anyway and everyone dropped it. This time he didn't even try to lie. He just walked away. No one let it go.

At the end of the second day of torture, he decided he had to talk to someone about this, and he had to make a decision as to who. He didn't know what he was doing when it came to friendships, at least not ones outside of the BAU, the ones he forged through work and unintentionally. He had his choice of five different colleagues to chose from, all of which understood friendships and would be honest with him. What it came down to was the one he was more comfortable with.

He knew Rossi wouldn't be the right person to talk to right off the bat. He was level headed, honest, and would be gentle with Reid, but he was also no good at relationships himself. He had a little bit of animosity in his heart towards them.

Although Haley's death had happened quite some time ago, Hotch had never really recovered from it, leaving it fresh in his mind. He had not been his usual self since, not even with the team, and he felt it selfish to bring up his own problems when Hotch had enough of his own.

Morgan was Morgan, smooth and effortlessly able to navigate the social barriers without much thought. It was second nature to him, and Reid just didn't have his swagger. Whatever Morgan told him to do, he'd surely screw up. Besides, a man probably wasn't the right person to talk to about a woman.

That left him with Prentiss or Garcia. Prentiss was sweet to Reid and truly appreciated who he was. She was older, more mature, and understood the ins and outs of women, which almost made him not want to talk to her about this, because he was afraid she'd think that he was just being silly, or that she'd tell him something he didn't want to hear. He was also afraid she'd ask him about what happened, and if things didn't work out, that every time they boarded the jet, she would just sit across from him and give him that look, the one that said she felt sorry for him, or she'd blame herself for leading him astray, if that were to happen. He needed someone cheery, someone he could talk to casually, but of whom would be extremely caring toward him and the situation. Maybe he was just over thinking this altogether.

He made his way to Garcia's office as everyone else was clearing out for the weekend, just hoping he'd catch her in her cheery little room filled with various amounts of cute. When he arrived, he didn't have to knock on her door. It was open, and there she was rearranging the furry, fluffy, and adorable to best suit her current mood. Even though she was in her own little merry world, he cleared his throat, managing to catch her attention nearly immediately and be greeted by one of her snappy little quips.

Garcia could tell immediately that something serious was going on. Not that she hadn't caught it the ten other times she happened to pass by him that day, but this time she knew he was there because he was ready to talk. She sat down in her chair, and he pulled up one, too, evening out the playing field. She sat back, relaxed and ready to listen to whatever he had to say, making sure to close the door before a single word slipped from his mouth, making him feel more comfortable that it was just them. She listened while he explained everything that had gone on, and even went as far as to show her the texts, and then it was his turn to listen to the happiest girl alive explain women to him.

"Well, my darling, I think your lady friend had some unresolved feelings she is trying to deal with. She certainly doesn't seem to be lying to you about you not doing anything wrong and this not being about you. If it was that, she wouldn't bother to get back to you, far more be nice about it." It was in the way Abby handled things with Reid, trying so hard to make things easy on him, showing him compassion, yet not able to bring herself to hear his voice or face him if she didn't have to, that told Garcia all she needed to know.

"That's true. Feelings about what?" Reid sat there, his face blank, completely clueless about what feelings Abby could have. Of course he knew she had them, but he didn't foresee them disrupting their relationship to this extent. His social graces may not have grown as much as he hoped they had.

"Feelings _for_ you, silly." Garcia leaned forward, reaching her hand out and ruffling his hair. He gave her a sour face, trying to fix it. Ever since he had cut his hair short, he was less and less fond of people messing it up.

"No. We're not like that." He was quick to talk, to correct her, and he made it clear that's what he was doing.

"Fine, my little wonder, don't trust my womanly intuition. Did you come to me for help or to sass me?" It deterred Garcia not, but she did digress back into her chair, playing with her fuzzy pen between her fingers and secretly smiling to herself. Reid had a lot to learn.

"Help, but it would be beneficial for you to know that there's no emotional feelings past friendship in our relationship. It's uncomplicated." Garcia shook her head, shutting him down as quickly as he had done to her.

"Oh, sweetie, every relationship is complicated. I mean, just look at me and my chocolate God. We're perfect for each other and he just hasn't figured it out yet." She didn't linger on this, but kept her same amount of pep, partially joking and somewhat serious, each at the same time, like she always was. She was, however, fine with their relationship how it was, make no mistake about it.

"Not ours. No. Since that's not it, what else could it be?" Reid shot her down again, never hesitating. He was dead set on this, and she realized if she were to argue with him, he would just become defensive and she didn't want that.

What Garcia did want was to help Reid solve his problem and, deep down, she wanted Abby to get what she really wanted, thinking it could benefit Reid as well. Garcia knew exactly what it was like to be Abby, and in that, she knew what it was that would make Abby happy, so she shifted her approach, trying to outsmart the genius into doing what she wanted him to do without realizing he was doing it.

"Well, something could actually be wrong, but it would have to be something that she's embarrassed about, or else she'd be able to face you and talk to you about it." Garcia knew Reid rarely ever didn't form an immediate hypothesis regarding a situation, so most likely he already had an idea of what he thought was going on. Although wrong, if she was careful how she worded things, she was sure she could drag it out of him.

"Do you think someone could be hurting her?" There it was, Reid's suspicions. That wouldn't be the first

place Garcia's mind would have gone to, but he was a profiler, he did this for a living and he may have had a point, although she didn't have an answer.

"I don't know. Do you?" His suspicions almost seemed too fitting, and she began to worry if she wasn't wrong about this. She knew how it was when she had first met James Colby Baylor.

She and Morgan rarely argued, but her feelings of knowing something was wrong is what forced her to be angry at him, even when she knew he was just using his profiling skills to try and forewarn her of danger. In hear gut, she knew something bad was going to happen, and she avoided Morgan because of it. If something bad was happening already, would it be so far fetched to think that, if it was something that happened, something that could be shameful for her and she could blame herself for, that she'd want to hide that from Reid? If she was terrified of someone, it would give her an even better reason considering he was worse than the police, he was FBI. It could spell more danger for her.

"I don't know. It makes sense. If she's preoccupied with someone harming her, and knowing that I'm FBI, she may be deliberately avoiding me. Her calling me back or texting me may be her way of letting me know that this really isn't about me. When I talked to her on the phone she sounded sad, and she was crying. I still can't be sure that I didn't do anything wrong, but if you don't think this is about me, then that's the only conclusion I can readily come to." Reid was beginning to rethink the entire thing, just like Garcia hoped he would. She knew Abby was chasing him away so that she didn't lose him in the long run. It was a classic move from a woman who found the one she could trust, but he couldn't see more than friendship, and she didn't want to ruin that.

"I don't think this is about you. You shouldn't either. She even told you that it was about her. A quality woman will usually tell you exactly what she means and what she wants if you men would just open your ears and listen to us for one gosh darn minute!" Garcia got herself worked up, not sure if she was doing it for herself, or passionately trying to get something across to Reid. When she looked up at him, he was stunned, swallowing uncomfortably. "Oh, I'm sorry. Just a little glitch in my hardwiring."

"So what do you think I could do?" It was easy for Reid to be insensitive when he got caught up in his own troubles. Normally he'd ask her if she was okay, since she could obviously use an outlet herself, but he barely thought the incident anything other than Garcia being herself.

"I think you should go over to her home and check on her." He was buying what she was selling, and she was secretly excited for what could happen if he listened to her.

"I can't do that." But he had to argue. He always argued about something. You couldn't tell Reid anything, even when he asked you.

"Why not?" She would play his little game. It just helped her twist his words to her advantage.

"She asked me to give her some time." Garcia shook her head. She knew how to handle this.

"She asked you that before and you still called her yesterday. Just take her some pretty flowers and tell her you were worried about her. Women love stuff like that. All will be forgiven." If Reid was willing to go and pick up his friends flowers, it would mean he sincerely cared for her. If he could apologize and mean it, he was clearly going to be a man about the situation.

If he could do both of these things, he deserved to go over there, and she deserved to see that he was worthy of hearing how she really felt and letting him have some input on what she was feeling. Garcia understood, but never thought it fair when a girl decided to make a decision for two people. She thought Reid should have a chance to see how a pretty young woman of whom he trusted really felt about him. It might finally give his smaller-than-healthy romantic ego a boost. He may be able to see himself as desirable. He had worked through a lot of things in the last several months, but this was one thing he'd never be able to get past until he had first hand reassurance.

"You think so?" No, she didn't. She thought Abby would be a little upset that he came over when she asked him not to, but mostly mad at herself for pushing him away the way she was, because she knew it was wrong. Deep down, she was lying on her couch looking a mess and fantasizing that she would open her door and he'd be there, flowers in hand and the willingness to be a man about the situation.

"Go, my genius. Go." Since she couldn't answer that question honestly, but still wanted him to fall into her little plan, she decided to chase him out of the room before she gave herself away. "Come on. Shoo. Shoo. Out the door you go."

She helped him out of his chair, literally pushing him out her door a little too quickly, and shutting it behind him before he had a chance to contemplate the situation or ask more questions. With him gone, she debated calling Abby, knowing she could find out this girl's phone number on just the information she had about her. She rarely debated if her snooping skills were wrong if it benefited her friends or a case, but this time she seriously contemplated it and realized it would be creepy. Reid would just have to deal with Abby looking her worst. He was Reid. He didn't see things the same way others did. If anything, seeing her like that would only make him worry more, which, if Abby played her cards right and Reid didn't get himself too nervous, could work out even more nicely for Abby than a forewarning, one of which would give her a chance to panic and leave, would.

Reid grabbed his things, Garcia having planted his worst fears in his mind without actually saying anything at all. He would never think that out, though. As far as he was concerned, she had agreed with him. He headed out the doors of the J. Edgar Hoover building, prepared to follow her instructions and advice to the tee. The only problem was that he had never bought flowers for anyone before. He had seen flower shops, but although he was an incredibly intelligent individual, he had no idea how to handle himself in a flower shop.

Yet he still pulled over at the first one he saw, carefully picking out purple lilies and white orchids, the same flowers she decorated her office with. He then rethought that. Would she want her house to look like her office? Would it remind her of work? Did she not want to bring those thoughts home with her? Or were they truly her favorites and she brought a bit of her home to work to feel comfortable? The office never felt cold and contrived, much like a therapist's office could, so maybe he was getting her the right ones. He argued with himself for several minutes, until a sales girl finally came over to help him, befuddled over how someone could get such a terrified look on their face over just buying flowers.

The sales girl went through the different kinds of flowers with him. Roses were too romantic, carnations too formal. In the end, she convinced him into a gorgeous bouquet that consisted of the two flowers he knew she loved, mixed in with some purple calla lilies and lovely yellow tulips. After a twelve minute long conversation about how flowers could be so expensive, including, but not limited to him asking what kind of pesticides were used, where the flowers came from, and how they were transported, he left the store, proud of himself for making it out with something he thought Abby would enjoy. The sales girl was just glad he was gone.

He drove over to her brownstone condo, knocking on her street level door with the flowers in his hands, pretending the lightening illuminating the night sky was not at all disturbing, or a warning of an impending storm. He would wait awhile. While he knocked on the door, shifting his weight consistently from foot to foot impatiently, Abby was inside, a gallon of chunky monkey ice cream in front of her with a lone spoon, in her too large pajamas on, watching a sappy movie and crying. She thought if she held out long enough, the person who she was not expecting would just go away. After five minutes, when they had not, she dragged herself off the couch and to the door, intent on getting rid of whomever it was immediately. She doubted that the way she looked would attract them to her, so she didn't think that would be much of an issue. If she only know who was standing on the other side of her door, she may have turned the volume up louder to tune out the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to everyone reading! You all own my heart! _

_Ceegeeayy – Thanks for the review! You are my new favorite person in the whole wide world, even if that does make me sound like I'm three! Thank you for the wonderful response to this story, and for commenting on how I'm doing with Reid's character. In everything I write, I always worry about messing Reid up royally! I am so interested to read your stories and am working on doing so. Thank you! _

**Chapter 2**

**Please Don't Be In Love With Someone Else**

Reid was just getting ready to walk away disappointed when the door popped open. There were no other sounds at first; she didn't even say hi. Abby just stood there with this dead look on her face, and he couldn't tell if she was angry, or not expecting him and in shock. It was a little of both, she knew. When it was clear she wasn't going to be able to say anything, Reid thrust the flowers toward her and spoke up.

"I...I bought these for you." His voice was timid and soft, seeing what had become of the woman he normally saw cleaned up, put together, and happy. Her face was tear stained red and she looked in shambles.

"Spencer, what are you doing here? I...I told you I need some time." Her last sentence mimicked his closely, her voice falling just as soft, her defenses wanting to come up, but finding themselves unable to in the wake of him standing in front of her, just like she knew they would. This is why she hadn't wanted to see him.

"You did, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know that you said you were, and I didn't mean to disrespect your wishes, but it's kind of my job to make sure people are okay." That didn't fly with her immediately, and Abby was too busy smelling the flowers and ignoring the situation to even pretend like it did, so he tried again. "My coworker told me that it would be a good idea to come and check on you, and she's a girl. She knows what women really mean when they say certain things, so since she suggested it, I thought it would be okay. I'm sorry if it's not."

At this, Abby looked up, not surprised by his foolishness or the way he stumbled over words as if it were a sport, instead finding it disarming the way he was nervous and had admitted that. He really did believe in doing no harm, and she could tell he was worried. More than anything, she wanted to invite him in and just spend time with him. That's all she had wanted in the first place, but she was afraid she'd cave in the presence of him and the sweet demeanor he carried about him. And that's exactly what she did.

"Spencer, just come in. Please." She moved out of the way, defeated, allowing him into her home, a place she rarely let anyone enter. She usually spent time at his house, only rarely ending up back at her place. It just seemed too personal for her, like she had no defenses left with him if he could come and go freely from her house. That was broken now.

"Thank you. It's about to rain out here, and I'm not fond of getting drenched. I'm sorry if me being here is overstepping any boundaries. You know I'm not good with that sort of thing." Reid removed his coat, making himself at home just as she figured he would do if she let him in. She felt too comfortable with him doing that, which made her a little nervous. Every person had their trigger point, and too much comfort was hers for fear.

"I do, but I wouldn't have let you in if I didn't want to." Instead of expressing herself, she turned away from Reid, walking further into her apartment to her open kitchen area, to put her beautiful bouquet in a vase. It was really sweet of him and she didn't want to dismiss the gesture, or at least that's what she told herself. She was trying to avoid getting too close to him.

"I guess not. You do have a mind of your own sometimes." She shook her head, knowing how he sometimes found it hard to deal with when she made up her mind and went about her merry business, and he found himself still trying to figure out what was going on. He always followed, it just took him a moment to catch up.

"Is that a bad thing?" She wondered. Maybe that's why things had stayed so platonic between the two of them. Maybe she was too much for him with her strong willed mind and empty heart.

"No, not at all." Her worst fears were realized when Reid entered the kitchen, the harsh light not forgiving for her. "Abby, what happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. I'm going to go and put some clothes on. I'd really feel more comfortable." She turned, trying to slide past him to go around the counter in the kitchen so she could go back her hallway, but he grabbed her arm before she got too far.

"You're not. I can call one of my female coworkers over here if you'd rather talk to them, but I highly doubt it's normal for you to be walking like that, and your wrists to be bruised." Abby sighed, because she knew what it looked like. This is why she tried not to get too close to him. He noticed everything if he had a chance to pay attention long enough.

"It's not what you think, Spencer. Please relax and let me go and get changed." She tried to pull her arm away from him, and although he didn't have it tightly, she was still unable to.

"What I think is that you were raped." He looked straight at her, hoping since he had her cornered and spoke his mind, that she would be forced to be honest with him. His worst fears were coming true.

"I know you do. I knew you would. I wasn't." Instead of getting upset or spilling some big secret, she was as calm as could be. This, and only this, was what made him finally let go of her arm.

"Then why won't you talk to me? I thought you were hiding from me because you were in trouble and didn't want me to know, since I'm FBI. I thought you were scared of someone." One of his problems that they had spent several sessions of therapy on was his brain's creation of conspiracy theories, and the way it could pervert a situation into the worst possible outcome, due to his past. Obviously, he never really got over that in highly personal situations, but he was doing better.

"I am scared of someone. I'm scared of myself." Abby had resigned to the fact that, although she had gotten him to let go of her arm, she wasn't going to get around him until they figured a few things out. She wasn't getting the time she wanted. Instead, she was getting flowers and the thing she was hiding from.

"You did this to yourself? How?" He reached over for Abby, grabbing for her hand. She pulled away and left him curious as to what he had done wrong, those old feelings coming back to visit him.

"No, no. I'm not physically scared of myself. I didn't do this to myself." She didn't look up at him, but her voice was confident enough that Reid believed her.

"Then who did?" He tried for her hand again, but failed. He wanted to hug her, and he felt comfortable enough doing that with her, but he didn't feel like that's what she wanted, so he carried trepidation about it. Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder, but she again pulled away.

"My stupid little brother. He came to visit me two weeks ago, and he likes to wrestle. He forgets we're not eight and twelve anymore, and he's a twice my size. He means well, but he doesn't think before he pounces, and then it takes me a month to be able to walk straight and for the bruising to completely go away. He's lost more girlfriends that way." She sighed, shaking her head and wondering how the little goon got to be twenty six without accidentally committing murder. He was rough, but unintentionally. Little brothers never grew up.

"I could have done without that last part. I'm glad you're okay, though. That still doesn't explain why you're afraid of yourself." Gathering up any courage and strength she had inside of her, she gently spoke, just with the absence of looking him in the eye yet again.

"Spencer, I think that you should go." Her voice was as firm as she could make it. She knew that Reid caught it where no one else normally would have. It was his job.

"This is about me, isn't it?" He felt like he had been punched in the gut and duped by Garcia. She could say what she wanted, but he wouldn't be asked to leave if this was truly only about Abby, especially since she had told him what seemingly seemed like it would be her big, embarrassing secret of fear.

"No, it's about me, like I told you." She still didn't look at him, and he knew better than to think she was telling the truth. It may have been about her, but it was because of him. Take him out of the equation and she wouldn't have any issues to cause her to be afraid of herself, although he couldn't piece together how that worked.

"Then why do I have to go?" He didn't want to go. He had come all the way here tonight to see her. He missed hanging out with her and spending time with her.

"Because I don't trust myself with you." Finally, she broke, looking up at him. Saying what she did, she had nothing to hide anymore. She wanted to say it once and once only, so she made sure he got it the first time.

"I...didn't take you as the type to be violent. Did I do something to make you angry?" Her eyes darted across his face, trying to decipher another Reid-ism. When she finally caught on, she couldn't help but laugh. "What's so funny?"

"You, which is why you have to go." She reached up and put her hands on the sides of his arms, trying to push him out of her kitchen. She didn't push hard, and he wasn't moving on his own, so she figured she'd just give up and try to coax him out the door like a little puppy dog.

"I'm funny, but you want to hurt me?" He did walk out of her kitchen, which she thought a victory, until she went around the other side of the counter, pulled out one of the barstools, and sat down across from her. She should have known she couldn't coax Reid into anything.

"No, Spencer, where did you get that?" Disbelief filled her voice, but it dissipated quickly enough when she remembered who she was dealing with. How could she forget? "Never mind, I know where and how you got that, which disturbs me a little that I understand you like that. I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you, which is why I need you to leave. I don't not trust myself in that way. I'm not violent."

"If you're not violent and you don't want to hurt me, then what other way is there to not trust yourself?" He grabbed the tablet and pen from off of her counter, writing quickly and turning the paper constantly. She had no idea what he was doing, but she just let him go. The less he looked at her, the easier it was for her.

"Wow, you have been in the FBI for too long. Too long, Spencer. Not everyone's mistrust in themselves is rooted in anger and violence." She felt like she needed to pull up a chair, put him on the couch, and have a session with him. This was the the one downfall she found in their friendship, but it was the reason they were as close as they were all the same.

"But it's the only mistrust I could think of that would involve me and not just you." Reid was exhausting, but it was fine, because she was a patient therapist. This time she stopped herself from making this into a therapy session, remembering herself and being a little more selfish than maybe she had a right to be.

"I told you, this isn't about you." She reached out to him against her better judgment, placing her hand on top of his, and getting him to stop writing. She didn't want to have to keep repeating herself, and although she knew he was paying attention to her, she needed him to show it too. She would never get used to how quickly his brain worked, and how he could split his focus.

"If it wasn't about me, then you wouldn't want me to go." He chose now to become observant. His mind was a selective jokester. Because of this, she took her hand back.

"I don't _want_ you to go. You _have_ to go." She motioned her hands, palms up, in an upward direction, trying to motivate him to stand back up. She'd work on getting him out of the door after that. It was one step at a time with Reid.

"But why?" He didn't move. He just stared at her, trying to figure out once again what he had done wrong.

"Because I asked you to." It was her house and she didn't feel she needed a reason. None she gave him would be interpreted or understood immediately, and she'd find repeating herself to be an instant theme. She was trying to avoid that.

"No, I got that, but why?" He went back to writing on his piece of paper, and she grabbed the pen out of his hand, chucking it across the room. She wasn't mean about it. In fact, it was a little comical, even she would admit that, but it got his attention because of the casual way it was done and not mentioned.

"Have you ever taken a road trip?" Reid shook his head first.

"No." His voice was faint, but thoughtful. He had always wanted to do that with someone when it didn't involve a case. He had once taken a road trip with Rossi for one, but he hardly counted that.

"Oh, good, because I take you as the 'are we there yet' kind." She smiled, imagining him whining every two seconds. If she was wrong, then he was definitely the 'I have to pee' kind. It was a toss up. Maybe he was both.

"I'm sorry, but why?" She reached across and grabbed both of his hands. He stared at her, looking her straight in her eyes and watching her squirm, but not understanding why.

"Because I do, and you really have to go." She tried to pull her hands away, but he wouldn't allow for it.

"Did you not like the flowers?" It took her mind a moment to deduce how he got from one to the other, but she did. After all this time, she still had to pause to try and figure out his brain, which she was sure she would never fully understand.

"I loved them. They're beautiful and I appreciate that, but you can't be here. When I told you I needed time, I meant it." There was a pause. Reid's eyes searched hers before finally conceding to the facts.

"You really want me to go?" She nodded.

"I'm sorry." Reid finally let go of her hands, standing up out of the chair. Things seemed to be going her way, although he still felt horribly guilty, convinced he had done something wrong.

Abby felt bad, but she couldn't focus on that right now. She wanted her ice cream, her television, and she wanted to watch a very sappy movie that would continue to make her cry until she got it all out, and herself in order. She was so close she could taste it, when the power went out.

"Well, I guess you're not going anywhere." She heard no movement, and that's because she knew Reid was frozen in place. The dark terrified him, something he and Abby were both sure he'd never fully work through. Only he had the tools to desensitize himself from the terror the night had caused him, and he never seemed to be able to reach deep enough to unlock the answer to doing that.

"I...I can still go if you want me to, if I can just find my way out." His voice was hesitant, and they both knew it wasn't safe for him to drive with power most likely out across the city, traffic lights included. Reid took one step forward and it was followed by a thump. God only knows what he ran into.

"Like I said, you're not going anywhere. Take a seat. I'll light some candles." The therapist in her immediately came out and she wanted to take care of him. If she sent him home, he'd just spend the night like a terrified child, and she hated thunderstorms herself, so there was no need to suffer separately.

"I think I'll just stand here until you do that. I can't exactly see where I'm going right now, and I don't want to break anything." Her hallways cupboard was littered with candles, her kitchen drawer held her matches. It would take her awhile to fish everything out, and Reid could be a whiner. Eventually he'd get sick of standing there and try to move, and there would go her things.

"Here, let me help you. There's no use in you standing, and I know my way around my own living room. It will take me awhile to dig the candles out and light them. I wasn't expecting a storm tonight." Although there was lightening striking and thunder roaring outside when she had invited Reid in, she had not expected it to progress when no rain was involved, but it had. She was so caught up in her conversation with Reid, that she hadn't even realized it had begun to rain until all went dark.

"They didn't call for it. I guess they were wrong." Reid was blindsided by this, too, also getting caught up in the conversation before realizing it was kitties and poodles out there.

"Aren't they always?" Abby made her way toward where she had last seen Reid, silent so she could concentrate on maneuvering around her own things. She interrupted her own silence before he could with some facts about weathermen. That was the last thing she needed right now. "Don't answer that. Here, reach out your hand so I can find you. You're the only thing in my living room that I don't know where it is."

She knew she was close to him and was hoping that if he reached his hand out, he would touch her. It would make things a lot easier than playing the world's most random game of in the dark Marco Polo. He did reach out and he was close. This ended up being less fortunate than any scenario she had imagined.

"Oh my God, I...you can take your hand away." She reached her hands up to her breasts, quickly swatting his away, startled and unsettled. "I umm...I have to go. The couch is right in front of you."

She spoke quickly, but moved for the door even quicker, running into a few things on her way and not caring too much. She grabbed for her keys, praying for a flash of lightening to come in at the right angle so she could see them. She was going to wait out the storm in her car. Supposedly, it was the safest place to do so, so she'd be fine out there. That flash of lightening never came, though, and by the time Reid realized she was trying to literally leave her own house, she had crashed the entire key holder on the floor.

"Abby, are you okay? What's going on? What did I do?" Reid was slowly realizing what he had grabbed. It wasn't a body part he was all that familiar with, and it took it a moment to register, but now he was sick in his stomach.

"It wasn't your fault. It's fine. I told you to reach out. I shouldn't have reacted like that." She realized she was being irrational, but she couldn't help herself. This wasn't the kind of action she had in mind when she thought of him touching her in the dark, however, she imagined it was the closest she was going to get.

"I'm actually really surprised you did. What is going on with you, Abby? If it's me, if I make you uncomfortable and there's something you want to tell me but can't in the daylight when I can stare straight at you, yet don't want to tell me over the phone, now would be the time to do it. It's just the two of us and it's dark. Since I profile heavily on actions and body language, I won't even try to profile you in the dark." The dark seemed to make Reid bolder, and he was hoping it would make her that way, too. She dreaded the situation she was put in, not seeing the bright side like he was trying to.

"How nice of you. Did you find the couch yet?" Trying to divert the subject as to just get through the night until the lights came back on, she threw the focus back on him. It was a classic technique that she was sure he'd catch.

"No. I'm still standing here. I think I'm getting used to being a talking mannequin, actually. I am not, however, getting any more used to the dark. How about those candles?" She shook her head at his passive aggressiveness. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't have even caught it.

"Candles, right, coming up right." She began to walk back from where she had come, discombobulated after she got herself worked up and knocked over more than Reid had. In her haze, more awkwardness was brought upon them. "Oh gees, I told you that you were the only thing in my living room that I didn't know where it was. Sorry about that. Didn't mean to try to make the mannequin strike an odder pose."

"Abby, stop. Forget the candles. Just tell me what I did wrong." Six angels could sing, with Garcia leading the chorus, telling him it was nothing he had done, while Abby handed him a self-written note exclaiming the same, and he wasn't going to believe it.

"Oh, Spencer, you forgot to turn into someone else, someone you're not, after a few months, like everyone else does. That's what you did wrong." She gave up, caving in to what he was asking, and answering it with only the truth, the only way she knew how, even if it didn't make sense to Reid.

"What does that even mean?" Instead of feeling better, you could hear the panic in his voice as Reid tries to reason why women were so confusing, because he was sure he wasn't the only male who would have been confused by that.

"I forgot how to be friends with you. I need time to remember how to do that. Even therapists need self therapy sometimes. Mine is ice cream movie nights alone." Instead of this clarifying things to Reid, it just confused him further.

Was she saying they were no longer friends and no one told him? Did she feel bad they were no longer friends and was trying to force herself to become friends with him again so she didn't feel bad about abandoning him, like everyone else had done? He would ask, but he didn't want the answer, so he tried to persuade her to his side in the only way he knew how. He'd make her think being alone sucked, which it did, and then make her feel bad for him because he missed her. It probably wouldn't work. It didn't stop him.

"Take it from me, being alone is no fun. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I got used to relying on you to bide my time with." It was easier to be honest in the dark, when you couldn't watch someone's face change for the worst, and they had an easier time lying to you, gently telling you what you wanted to hear without their face to betray you.

"I think that's the problem, we got too used to each other." He felt like he was being broken up with, which sucked, because he had been there twice too many, and he didn't need it from a friend, too.

"It wasn't a problem for me. I actually kind of liked it." His voice was partially indignant, like he was refusing her failure of friendship. It was like she was saying they were over and he was telling her no. She caught that, and she thought it was cute, but she failed to let it drift her off course.

"I did, too, right up to the point where I realized I'll never find anyone like you again." In the darkness, in an attempt to get their bearings, their hands had found each other. Her hands were on his shirt near his hips, and his on her arms. As long as they stood like that, no one could run into the other or grab the wrong place.

"And that's why you needed a break from me, because I'm that bad?" Reid would resign himself to the fact that she had broken up with him, but it was only a break, not something permanent. He was only resigning to that in hopes of getting some answers.

"No, I needed a break because you were too comfortable. I never thought that would be a problem, but for me it is. It's not a fear thing, I'm not too afraid to get comfortable to you, but I am concerned about the feelings that come with it. I respect you and I respect our friendship, so since this is a me problem, I just wanted to take some time to get myself back in check." This time when she repeated what she had told him so many times, that this wasn't his fault, for some reason the way she had said it finally made him believe it. Now he wanted to focus on helping her.

"I don't think you need to check your feelings. Feelings are a natural thing that need to be explored. You taught me that." He had been bottled up for so long that he hated to see the same with her. They were friends, after all, and he felt she could tell him anything. He was missing the big picture of this, which surprised her not.

"I did and I stand by it, but there's certain times where you have to use your judgement. People can't go spilling your feelings all over everyone all the time or you'd have a lot harder job to do." She should have known he wouldn't see the gray area in that. She didn't figure he would ever actually try out his feelings on anyone he wasn't extremely close to, and those people would understand him, so she told him what she had just hoping he'd eventually do that.

"But you don't have the psychopathy of a killer. And it's me. You can share your feelings with me without worrying about judgement." By this time, Reid had turned to gently rubbing her arm with one of his hands, but not the other. He felt like that would be too much. She had closed her eyes, relaxing her body into his hand and knowing she shouldn't. She let herself indulge because it was dark. He couldn't read her eyes or actions, and he promised not to profile her. He probably lied, but she tried to pretend like she didn't know that.

"The feelings I have aren't the kind of feelings that you share with your best friend." Any other man would have caught on by now, but Reid wasn't any other man. Unfortunately for her, that's what she liked about him.

"Why not? I thought when you found a best friend, you shared all your feelings with them. I've never had a best friend before, though, so I wouldn't know first hand." Abby took her hands off of him, knowing if she let go for one minute too long, this could get real stupid, real fast.

"Spencer, you're really adorable. You do know that, right?" She said this as she took a step away from him, almost committing suicide by coffee table. This did nothing to ease Reid's curiosity or insecurities.

"Uh, no. Normally people tell me I'm pretentious or strange. Adorable is not a word I'm used to." He was off put by her again, her words not matching her actions. He never had someone twist his existence this way.

"Well, you are, Spencer. At least to me." Abby reached out, grabbing onto his hand and leading him the few feet to the couch of which she felt her way to with the opposing hand that wasn't in his.

"Thank you?" As they sat down, Reid made no attempt to let go of her hand, seeing what she would do in her discomfort. She yanked her hand from his gently, which made him feel like he was confused and had done something wrong. "That is a good thing, right?"

"Very good." In a moment of weakness, possibly brought on because she was feeling bad about the way she made him feel, and because she stopped thinking long enough to be stupid, she reached her arm out and put it on his knee. "No, gosh, I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"Do what?" By this time, she had already snatched her hand back and moved over on the couch, distancing herself from him.

"Talk about you and your adorableness with you." Reid knew there was more to it, because it wasn't his adorableness that made her move away from him. He was glad it was dark when he silently smelled himself, thinking maybe her behavior could be from body odor and she didn't want to tell him. He didn't smell anything, though, and no one had said a word to him otherwise.

"I'm confused." Abby, too, was also glad it was dark, as she lifted her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as best as she could. If he couldn't see her hand and she was silent enough, maybe he'd never know.

"Were you ever not at any time during our conversations since you arrived?" Her voice held a certain playfulness that allowed some of her laughter to break free.

"No." Reid found nothing funny about this, especially because he was confused, had been confused, and she was not helping him to be any less confused.

"Do you want to be unconfused? If you want to, I'll explain things to you." Abby finally caved, hearing the frustration in his voice one last time. It took the darkness, where only the sound of his voice rang true, for her to see what this was doing to him and she knew she had to be fair to him.

"I think that would be beneficial. I really want to know what's going on. I feel like it involves me, but I'm missing it." Abby slide her hand up Reid's leg in a way she knew she shouldn't, but he'd never comment on, until she got to his hand. She slide her hand over it, lacing her fingers in his. If she was going to mess things up, she may as well mess them up good.

"You are." She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was going to say. There was no point in hiding it. He was a big boy and he made a lot of good points regarding why she should speak with him. "Spencer, I like you as a lot more than a friend. I can't stop thinking about being more than friends with you, and I know it's not right. It's disrespectful to our friendship, and that's why I need time to work on myself, because my feelings aren't fair to you and I know that."

"I don't get it. What would we be if we were more than friends? What's more than friendship?" Abby shocked herself by being shocked that Reid had said that. Even she thought he would have caught on by now. She knew he had those kinds of feelings, that he wanted a nice girl in his life, but clearly he hadn't thought about her in that way.

"I'm just going to put this in a way that you can understand, and then if you want me to go into my room and shut the door until the lights come on and you can safely get home, I'll do that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I can't sit here and explain this to you, either. It's just too painful for me. Not that this will be any less painful, but at least it will be over with." Abby couldn't believe what she was about to do. She knew it would pain her for a good time to come, but she also knew he wouldn't get upset with her, either. She couldn't make him understand why she needed time unless she did this, since she had tried words and they had not worked, and she couldn't get over this until he understood and gave her that time.

Slowly, Abby's hand left Reid's, working carefully, as not to startle him, which she was sure she was going to do anyway. She slid her hand across his stomach so that her arm was around him. She twisted her body and brought her other arm to his, sliding it up his body to try and feel him out a little. She was surprised when he didn't squirm, yet just sat there, almost seeming comfortable with what she was doing. It bothered her more than it did him.

"Are you okay?" She had to stop to make sure. She couldn't continue to feel like she was feeling him up without his permission.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't know what you're doing, but I trust you." The thing was, he was getting the picture of what she was doing, and although he was a little clueless, he thought he may have even known what she was going to do. He didn't know why it didn't bother him, or make him nervous, but it didn't, so he wanted to stick it out and see if he could find out why.

Abby didn't say anything; she didn't want to push it. She continued moving her hand upward, passing his arms, his shoulders, moving gently over his chest, and then upward again when she felt her hand was dead center of his chest. She worked gently, sliding up his neck until she got to his face. She folded her pinkie and ring finger back, taking only two of her fingers and running them gently across his lips, finding exactly where they were in the pitched dark. The only way this would be more awkward is if she missed.

Then she realized that was a gross understatement. He wasn't turning his head, and she couldn't reach his lips without crawling on top of him. It's not that she expected him to catch on and help make this easier on her, but she also didn't think this out well enough, obviously. She thought fast, trying to salvage this before he panicked out of discomfort, like she was still waiting for him to do when he figured out what was going on.

Instead, she snuggled a little closer to him, this time with her entire body. She leaned her chest against his arm, and slowly, carefully, she pushed her body upward, leaning her face into his neck. She paused for a second, giving him a chance to figure out what was going on, but he had done that the second her breasts, the ones he had accidentally touch earlier, grazed his arm willingly. Regardless, he had a second to back out and he didn't. He sat there just as still as could be, amazed that he trusted her.

Her lips were soft as they kissed his neck. That was the first thought before panic set in. It wasn't panic over what she was doing, but that he didn't have a lot of girls do this and he had to figure out what to do with himself now. Reid and panic didn't mix well together.

"I...I don't want this. I want you to stop." The truth was, Reid liked what was going on, but it made him too nervous and he didn't know how to let go just yet. He was still working on it, but working hard. He stumbled all over his words, but she still obeyed them.

"I'm sorry, Spencer. I'm so sorry. I'll get you some candles and a blanket. I'll stay in my room and you can leave at your own will whenever the power comes back on." She backed off quickly, respecting him, his needs, and his space. She hardly struggled with her apology. She had been practicing it in her head since the lights had gone out and she knew he'd be staying, and that this would eventually end up here. She knew she'd end up apologizing one way or another, but it didn't hurt any less.

"I don't want you to do that, either." To prove this, as Abby was scurrying to remove her hand from around Reid's waist, her breasts from against his arm, he grabbed onto the arm at his waist, holding it there.

"Then what do you want?" Her voice dripped with intrigue and confusion, but her heart broke a little less. She had tried to stop the pain by avoiding him, and then decided to go all in. She didn't want any of these feelings that were cropping out now, but they're what she got. Since there was no right answer on how to deal with this, she was just going to ride it out with pure emotion, and try not to over think it.

"I don't know. I liked what you did, I just don't know how to deal with that." Abby breathed a little easier, and feeling that against him, Reid did too. He was more comfortable knowing that he hadn't hurt her like he thought he had initially. The way she reacted and apologized upset him, because it was obvious how hurt she was.

"That's very good, Spencer. You're talking about how you feel. I didn't expect you would do that in a romantic situation." Sometimes she couldn't help when the therapist in her came out, which was why she was so unsuccessful in relationships. No matter who it was, at some time or another she found herself verbally analyzing them.

She thought she was being kind, but in retrospect, all she was doing was upsetting the other person. She had never crossed a line with a patient before. She had never planned to. Reid just happened, and truth be told, it was good for the both of them and they both knew that. She analyzed him the least because everything about him was already out in the open, and he knew a fair amount about her, too. Being a profiler, she would never get away with analyzing him without him analyzing her back, and she didn't like living under the microscope. Neither did he, so neither bothered to do it to the other. It was a private, quiet understanding they had.

Even still, there were certain things he would say that reminded her of an issue they had tried to work through in one of his sessions, one that would take him physically dealing with it to know for sure how he would react, no matter how much they had talked it out. When she saw him reacting properly in a real life situation, she became that therapist again.

"Are you hitting on me or being my therapist?" Reid was confused and picking on her all the same. She knew it, and he couldn't help himself. She knew that too. She didn't blame him one bit.

"I'm not sure." She wished she were. Her training was taking over, and she immediately wanted to write in his file and fix him all up, which could put a damper on any feelings she originally had. She was fighting with her work self and her home self. He tended to blend the two in a way that felt extremely immoral to her.

"Good to know you're confused now, too." Reid didn't want to admit it, but he was enjoying not being the only one confused for the first time since he can remember. For a brief second, though, he wondered if it was his fault that she was confused, and then became confused all over again.

"You do that to me." Finding herself nervous, her voice got a little higher, a little quieter, and her hands began to play with his shirt.

"I could say the same thing." Reid's voice didn't change. He didn't settle in to his emotions, at least not at this point. Abby tried not to, but it happened on its own, naturally.

"You complicate my life. It's not a bad thing." She liked the specific way he complicated it. She didn't like the pain that came with it when she realized how wrong their relationship was, even if it was a mutual friendship, and even if she wanted more and couldn't help how she felt. It didn't help her morals any.

"I stand by my last sentence." He didn't even have to think about that. They were on a level playing field now.

"So, since you're so big on talking about your feelings tonight, what are we going to do about that?" She had run out of options. Her cards were on the table and she knew it was really up to him now. The fact that he was reacting the way he was, she knew to be a good sign. It didn't mean things would work out in her favor, but at least she knew his chances of running from her in hopes of never seeing her again were slim.

"I suppose we could kiss, since that would probably panic me less, and then we can figure out if it works for the both of us after that." He didn't see any harm in kissing her. He had enjoyed her being this close to him and the way her lips felt on his neck. He figured it would be an easy way to clarify if he had any feelings for her or not, since his brain was racing just to take it all in. He would either feel something or he wouldn't. He was convinced it was that easy.

"You are an unusual person." Out of all the scenarios that had run through Abby's head in the last few minutes, this wasn't one of them. His directness surprised, but humbled her.

"I wasn't the one who kissed my neck." As Abby got more into Reid's romantic psyche and reactions to romantic behavior, she understood why he was single, but she liked him the way he was. She liked that he could be no one else.

"Ah, Spencer Reid is a smart ass when he's nervous in order to deflect the pressure he puts on himself to compensate. I'll make sure to notate that in your file." Mentally, she already wrote it down, checked it off, and was sure to never forget it.

"You don't still have that, do you?" He was mortified. He thought when their relationship had naturally crossed into friendship that she might have burned the thing. Honestly, it would have made him more comfortable if she had.

"Of course I do. I keep all files for seven years." It wasn't odd to her that she still had it. It was odd that he thought she wouldn't. It was awkward being on a different page on this.

"Even though we're friends now?" He was hurt. He knew the policy on keeping records, and he knew that she had to do it, but he thought he was more special than that, that she would break policy and codes of conduct for him and never look back to their therapy days.

"Yep. Friendship doesn't trump company policy." It took her a minute to see what was wrong with that. Since she'd never crossed the line or thought about it, she never came to terms with just how uncomfortable that could be to keep your best friend's file.

"If anything would happen between us, you wouldn't write about my sexual hesitations in my file, would you?" He wanted to know how far this file went. If it only covered their sessions, he was fine, but he figured this would be a good telltale sign of if, during their friendship, she had been continuing to update his file to how he handled a situation accordingly.

"NO! WHAT? NO! NO! OH MY GOSH, AND NO! That would be a terrible, terrible thing to do to either of us. No. Just no." Abby was the one to panic this time. Did he really think she would do that? It made her sick to her stomach to think of anything like that. There were certain boundaries she would never cross, and if this ever went into the bedroom, or even as far as a kiss, she promised herself that thoughts of him as her patient would never cross her mind again.

"I guess I believe you then." Although his words did nothing to soothe her flailing heartbeat, his tone of voice did. He still trusted her. Now she had to show him she was worthy of that.

"I realize how horrible it was of me to insinuate that our friendship means less than company policy. I can't destroy the records for seven years, but you can fill out a paper requesting the only copy of them, and I can give them to you since they are your records. That way, I won't have them anymore. I didn't realize how awful that had to be for you, trusting me, befriending me, and realizing I still had your patient records. I'm sorry." Abby continued to play with his shirt, getting more and more anxious to take this a little further, to find out if what she thought she felt was real. She wondered what was going on in his head.

"It's okay. You didn't expect to cross a professional line, either, and I realize I'm the one who initiated your doing so. It's understandable." When his voice finally lowered and she knew he was comfortable with what was going on, that's when she knew it was time for the kiss, and that he was truly ready for it. He wasn't just talking the talk in hopes of not walking the walk, just to make her feel better.

She gave the silence a moment to present itself. When it did, she moved her hand, this time the one that was around his waist, up his body, over his small stature, and to the side of his face. She willed his face to gently turn her way, as she lifted herself up on her legs to reach his lips. He went along with it, not struggling, not becoming nervous or all the other things he had once admitted to her he felt, and the ways he had told her he reacted, when put in a romantic situation such as this.

His lips felt good against hers, and the more she leaned into him, the more he liked it. He surprised her as well as himself, when, as she went to pull away to give him room to breathe and think, his hand came up to her neck and pulled her back in. Neither were hungry with their actions, and none of it was primal or sexual. It was sweet, gentle, and explorative. Neither knew where this was going long term, only that it wouldn't go past this tonight. They cared far too much for each other. But for the first time in either of their lives, maybe they had finally found someone who understood them for just who they were. Sometimes that was enough.


End file.
